


From Westeros with Love

by TeamGwenee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, post-season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-01 16:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11490336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: With Brienne stuck up North and Jaime stuck up South, Brienne and Jaime find themselves longing to find a way to talk to the other.





	1. chapter 1

Dear Jaime,

Seven Hells it's cold out! I've just been working Pod in the yard, and the minute you stop moving you can feel the ice freeze your bones. I can barely hold this quill. Still, I won't complain, I'm here by choice, ready to serve my Lady , even if doing so means turning to icicle whenever we step outside. Pod is having it even worse, I suppose he's barely used to Winter. He puts on a brave face, as do I, but I think Lady Sansa could tell as she has presented us both with some fur lined cloaks. She made them herself, which was good of her.

She does a lot of sewing. When she's not with her brother, helping his Grace with the Northern Lords, then she is probably sewing in her chambers, whilst Pod and I keep guard. It's not the most exciting work, watching over a young girl as she sews, but it keeps her away from Littlefinger, and it keeps me away from that red-haired Wildling, Torment!

Every time he looks at me, I feel as though my skin is covered with the caterpillars his eyebrows inexplicably become. I swear, my flesh crawls whenever he's near me!

I can see you're face as you read this, probably laughing at the mere thought of Brienne of Tarth suffering from the unwanted amorous attentions of a man! Well, you would be laughing if I actually sent this. That familiar smirk would appear on your face, and you'd make some jibe about how a woman as ugly as myself would be grateful, or else you'd tease me as to the size of our children.

But then you'd be sure to keep him away from me, and make it clear that if he attempts to steal me you'd serve his bollocks to the dogs. Of course I can fight my own battles, but I don't mind having you come save me and carry me off like a pretty lady (sometimes I rather wish you would). I don't particularly like the thought of having to be rescued, but it's alright if it's you.

So much is alright if it's with you.

I had better go now. Hot water has just been brought up for a bath, (I can't quite get my head round it yet, regular baths! It's almost as strange as sleeping in a bed,) and I want to wash before the water cools.

Let's hope Torment doesn't try to sneak in and watch.

Yours, Brienne.

 

Brienne,

I wonder how you are getting on, up North. I suppose you're freezing your tits off. Not that is so great a loss, form what I can recall. Does the bad weather make you even more of a grumpy puss than usual, or are the dour and stoic Northmen too miserable for even you? I remember them when I was at Winterfell, they made you look cheery! You! Can you believe it? Beggars belief, I know.

That said, I don't pity you. As cold as the North is, things are getting pretty steamy up here. Literally, what with the army of dragons rapidly approaching and all. Plus, the remains of the Sept of Baelor is still smoking a bit. Smoke inhalation has become a bit of a problem. I've been working on a relocation scheme, trying to find everyone safe housing. Boring as shit and really depressing, but it needs to be done. But Cersei certainly won't do it, she's too busy drinking wine and threatening to destroy our enemies.

I don't know how she plans to do it. I'm beginning to suspect that she isn't particularly suited to Queenship, on account of the whole being a bit mad and evil situation. Still, better the fire-happy-mad-Queen you do know as opposed to the fire-happy-mad-Queen you don't, as the old saying goes. Especially as the fire-happy-mad-Queen you don't know has three dragons at her beck and call, whilst the one you do know is dependent on you for military support. As we speak, the Targaryen Queen's Dothraki hordes are running havoc through the lives of the Small-Folk.

And my brother is beside her.

So you can see I'm in bit of a tough spot.

I think that's why I'm writing, I've got no one else to turn to. Well, except for Bronn. But I'm paying him so he doesn't count.

It's a bit insulting when you're only friend is being paid to pretend to like you. And he doesn't even pretend that hard.

From Jaime.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Jaime,

Well, he didn't try to sneak into my bath (unlike some I could mention) but he scaled up the wall outside my tower and tried to break in last night. The drop was sheer and he would have broken his neck if I pushed him (and believe me, the temptation was real,) but instead I grabbed a hold of him, one hand on his back, the other in his beard and hurled him out into the hallway. He fell face first and broke his nose.

Lady Sansa was furious when she found out and ordered King Jon to do something about it. His Grace found the whole situation quite amusing and laughed, until he caught sight of Sansa's face. I'm beginning to think that the Song of Ice and Fire that I've been hearing about lately is actually about her death glare, ice cold and yet burning with fire of a thousand dragons. Certainly, King Jon both froze and began sweating at the same time.

It was nice getting to laugh at _his expense_ , I can tell you, after he had a good chuckle at my problems. Pod wasn't happy either, I suspect he was tempted to swoop in and defend my honour. I'm rather glad he didn't. Pod tries, but at the end of the day he would have been crushed like a twig.

Anyway, I don't know if his Grace has said something or if it was Lady Sansa's bitch face, or maybe he has just accepted that when a woman threatens to geld him and then strangle him with his own intestines, she isn't just playing hard to get.

If only I could do the same to Littlefinger, but alas he's here to stay. We need the Knights of the Vale and Lord Arryn is wrapped firmly round his... well, his little finger. Maybe I should set Pod on him, even Pod could take down Littlefinger in a fight.

Now, that would be a sight to see.

Yours, Brienne.

P.S It seems I've been getting the Wilding's name wrong, it seems his name was _Tormund,_ not Torment. I thought that was a bit on the nose.

 

Dear Brienne,

So Bronn saw my last letter. I thought he was going to take the piss but instead I think he was a little hurt. He didn't take kindly to be told he doesn't count. He started sulking and moaning that Tyrion never had a problem with paying him. To make it up to Bronn I had to give him a pay raise and take him to his favourite brothel.

It was kind of awkward at first. But then I ran into a rather friendly young lady who has relations up at Crakehall, which is where I squired, so we had a nice chat. Well, it was nice once she put some clothes on. The leather harness and plumed headdress was rather distracting. I had to pay her, but it was worth it.

Or was, until Cersei found out I had gone to a brothel. For some reason she doesn't believe that I spent fifty gold dragons to have a chat about Lady Crakehall's gouty leg.

I just really needed the company.

So things are getting pretty stuffy up here, what with Bronn still mad at me and Cersei thinking I slept with a prostitute and half the population of Westeros baying for our blood.

Maybe North is the way to go.

Do your precious Starks have any position open for a one-handed Kingslayer?

From Jaime.

 


	3. chapter 3

Dear Jaime,

I have since discovered another name for our favourite Wildling. Apparently, he is known by some as the Husband of Bears! I kid you not. And it's not a Mother of Dragons type situation either, he literally fucked a bear!

Trust me, any flattery I might have found at his attentions are gone! I don't even want to think of what type of comparisons he is drawing.

Do you you ever think about when you saved me from a bear? I do. I mean, I suppose you don't. Why would you? But, maybe it crosses your mind now and then. How you jumped in, threw yourself between me and the bear, despite you having one hand, no sword and being shirtless.

Were you shirtless? I can't remember. That's how I always picture it.

That is, I don't picture it often, of course. Just sometimes, now and then. In passing.

I don't think of you naked in the bath either, just saying.

Yours, Brienne.

 

Dear Brienne,

So yesterday Cersei held her first audience as Queen. She met with merchants who have lost trade deals with the Reach, Small-folk who are starving and worshippers who are requesting use of the Sept in the Red Keep. All of them she sentenced to death. One of them had just brought her a bottle of wine to welcome her as queen. She still ordered him to lose his head.

It seems it wasn't big enough.

Anyway, as the Lannister army is following me and not her, I just ordered the soldiers to lead the lot to the bay where I had a boat waiting (I had a slight feeling that Cersei was going to get a bit axe-happy), and gave them a bag of gold to start anew.

I swear, I'm going to end up bankrupt at this rate. What with the whole paying for everyone who lost their homes to be relocated, and sending convicts to safety and paying fifty gold dragons an hour to chat with a friendly prostitute, (whose name is Violet, by the way).

Then there is the currently being at war with Westeros situation. I tried to make an alliance with Randyll Tarly. Got pretty close now I think of it, but we had a but of a falling out. Or else, he had a falling out. Out of a window.

Perhaps I could have handled the situation better, but I wasn't prepared for Tarly to be such an utter meany pie.

We were just talking about battle strategies, and he mentioned how he would have his son lead the vanguard. He went on to wax about how wonderful his little boy was, which was tiresome but quite sweet. Then he got on about his eldest boy, who is up at the Wall. Apparently he is a bit of a disappointment, 'a fat, cowardly lump of lard'. This led onto a discussion about general poor excuses of humanity and disgraces to their sex. And whose name should come up? But yours, my dear lady.

I had no idea that the two of you were acquainted. I can't remember exactly what he said, although I did catch some phrases such as 'stupid, ugly wench' and ', brutish creature', but apart from that it was all red noise. Anyway, so next thing I knew there was glass everywhere and Tarly had a broken arm and three cracked ribs.

So safe to say, the alliance with Horn Hill is off. Now, apart from the West and some stinking Iron Born, we have no allies and are left utterly defenceless as Daenerys Targaryen's army draws ever closer.

Totally worth it.

From Jaime.

 


	4. chapter 4

Dear Jaime,

I don't quite know how to begin. Suffice to say I have rather big news.

Lately, King Jon has been making agreements with Queen Daenerys, requesting her support against the White Walkers, (yes, there are White Walkers. I probably should have mentioned them sooner, but I was preoccupied with Torment). Not only has she agreed to Northern independence, she has also permitted us to ask the Lannisters for aide in the Great War (as they're calling it, though I don't see what's great about it), in return for a full pardon.

Lady Sansa and Lady Arya would rather both see you all burnt to a crisp, but King Jon insisted that if our claims of White Walkers are to be taken seriously, we need to put old enmities aside in favour of working together.

Unfortunately, not many people are willing to try and treat with you. For some reason, they think you can't be trusted. Lord Tyrion has agreed to try and get into contact with you (I don't know if he has already), but they also want someone who will meet with you in person. Someone who can be trusted, who has no ulterior motives, and maybe has a bit of an in with the leader of the Lannister army.

I wasn't sure when they first put the proposition towards me. I didn't like the idea of Lady Sansa being left alone with Littlefinger, but I'm sure her sister will look out for her. She's a tough little thing, handy with a sword and capable of changing her face at will (don't ask... just don't). It makes sense they're sending me, Seven knows I've been dragged up and down this blasted country more times than an anchor.

I'm getting side-tracked. What I'm saying is, I'm coming South.

I'm coming to you,

Love Brienne.

 

 

Dear Brienne,

Remember what I said about turning bankrupt?

Well... it seems I already am!

Apparently, the gold of Casterly Rock has run out years ago and we're in fuck loads of debt with the Iron Bank! And no one told me. At no point did Cersei think to say 'Hey Jaime, guess what, we're utterly broke. Yep, no cash, no gold. We're fucking screwed!'

Thanks Cersei. Thanks a bunch.

However, that said, word came through the grapevine (that is, whatever grapes are left from Cersei constantly squeezing them for wine. Seriously, I don't think she's been sober for three days,) that Queen Daenerys was willing to talk peace. We might just get out of this whole debacle alive. Bronn has been meeting with them privately, to discuss terms. But I want to meet with them in person.

When they asked for an envoy, I suggested you. I tired to play it cool when I said your name, but I might have squeaked slightly. And then Bronn started singing the ' _Jaime and Brienne, rolling in the much. Oh m gods they're having a fu-'...._

Well, you get the picture.

So, in summary, I've asked for you, but you don't know that. I didn't want to accidentally make you think I like you or anything, I mean _eww_ , but if you agree, we might be seeing each other very soon.

Not that I care if you say yes.

(Oh please, please say yes).

Love Jaime.

 

 


	5. chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, and I hope you enjoy! :)

Dear pair of fookin idiots,

Just letting you know that you may think yourself clever for sneaking away from the Dragonpit during the meeting, but everyone still knows what you're up.

The creaking of the armour was a hint.

Not that we're surprised or anything, everyone could tell. You're not nearly as subtle when you think you are. When, for example, Ser Pratship caught sight of your Ladyship after your arrival, he started stuttering and turned as white as a bird shirt. Oh, he tried to pretend that he wasn't happy to see you, but the sword in his pocket was a giveaway.

Seriously, everyone could tell the second you laid eyes on her that you wanted to fuck her. Well..except for King Jon. He just looked confused (or is that just his face, who can tell?)

Still, as annoying as your constant mooning over each other is, I do owe you my thanks, I won the stake as to when you two would finally get it on. Her Grace, Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Queen of the Rhoynar and the Andals and.... (you know what, I'm not even going to fookin finish her titles, we've heard them enough already) was gutted. Thought for sure you'd wait after marriage. But she doesn't know you like I do, how you've been sweating after each other like dogs in heat.

Ah! The creaking has finally stopped. We can get on with the meeting now. Have to admit, kind of rude for you to keep us all waiting. All one hundred of us.

Your sister in particular seemed rather put out.

Bronn.

P.S(Oh, for fook sake! You're creaking again. How can you go for another round?)

P.P.S(And now your sister as just wasted a perfectly good bottle of wine by throwing it against the wall.)

 


End file.
